


Fictober 2019

by icywind



Category: Highlander: The Series, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, BAMF Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canonical Character Death, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Deaf Clint Barton, First Death (Highlander Immortal), M/M, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23161681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icywind/pseuds/icywind
Summary: So back in October I attempted to participate in Fictober...and promptly lasted not quite a week. Still, might as well post everything here for completest sake. Four fics are Marvel/Winterhawk and two are OC's for Highlander...that may or may not bear a resemblance to a certain archer and metal armed man. ;-) Chapter titles will indicate fandom - the prompt will be listed in the body of the work.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 26
Kudos: 39





	1. Fanfiction - Marvel (Winterhawk - Bucky/Clint)

For the Winterhawk Week prompt - holding hands; and the fictober prompt - can you stay.

"Can you stay?"

The phrase hung in the air like a palpable thing and Clint stuttered to a stop near the foot of the bed. Even if he hadn't been nearly deaf but for his aids, he had a hunch it would have been hard to hear for all its quiet intensity. He turned back to look at the figure on the bed and saw that Bucky was indeed awake, not asleep as he'd first thought when he exited the bathroom, his eyes shining in the pale moonlight lilting in from the window.

He wasn't looking at Clint, and for a second he wondered if he'd imagine the words.

"Please?" came out then, barely a breath, and if he hadn't been staring at Bucky's lips he wouldn't have caught it.

"Of course," he replied whisper soft, and Bucky's eyes finally flicked up to look at him as he came around the bed to the free side and settled in. He offered as confident a smile as he could muster but Bucky's face remained troubled.

Nightmares then.

None of them were strangers to bad dreams, not with the lives they'd all lead and the things they'd all seen and done, but he and Bucky had a special kinship with theirs - both of them having been forced to do things against their free will. It had become habit at the tower for the two of them to congregate in team spaces in the middle of the night, still cold and shivering from the things they'd been reliving. But this, here at Clint's farm in the middle of nowhere, the place they'd come for a little R&R after a particularly difficult mission, this was new.

Being alone together was new.

New but comfortable all the same. Despite having to share a bathroom that was off of the main bedroom, they cohabited well. Moved around each other with a certain grace. Got along like they'd known each other for years.

And sure there was some tension, but it wasn't a bad sort of tension. Rather, it was the kind that held a certain promise to it. Tension that could be stoked into something more perhaps - when they were both ready.

Now was not the time for that however and Clint knew that wasn't why Bucky asked him to stay.

His smile and expression turned softer when Bucky took his hand, proud in a way that it had been his left hand he was reaching out with for help.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly.

"Not really," Bucky replied after a moments pause. "Not right now anyway."

"Okay," Clint said, rubbing his thumb soothingly over Bucky's knuckles. He felt the man next to him relax just a little and figured that somehow everything would be okay.

"Thanks," Bucky said who knew how long later.

"Anytime," Clint replied. "Anytime."


	2. Fanfiction - Marvel (Winterhawk - Bucky/Clint)

For the Winterhawk Week prompt - Why did you spare me?; and for the fictober prompt - Scared, me?

“Why did you spare me?” Clint asked the man towering over him as he rubbed his wrists to get the feeling back into them.

"You were not part of my mission directive," the Winter fucking Soldier replied matter of factly as he glanced down at Clint while he finished picking the lock on the cuffs holding his ankles together.

"Okay, makes sense I guess," Clint replied as he sat back up in the chair and titled his head to get a better look at the Soldier. It wasn't every day you encountered a cryptid after all. And Clint was a little surprised at what he found, namely that the Soldier was good looking under that fringe of serial killer hair and raccoon eye makeup. Go figure.

"You're not scared of me?" the Soldier asked and Clint had all he could do not to laugh. It would probably be a bad idea to laugh at the Winter Solider if he was honest with himself.

“Scared, me?” Clint gave a cocky grin. "I've got a good track record with befriending scary assassins that could kill me with their pinky." Nat would quite possible kill him for this, but, he hadn't expected to be caught by the tracksuit mafia - they'd managed to take him by surprise. Nor had he expected the Winter Soldier to show up out of the blue just as he was about to break out of the handcuffs holding him to the chair - and take out all five of his captors before any of them could even pull their sidearms. It was hot and that right there is what Nat would kill him over because he was really, really, not supposed to find the most dangerous assassin in the world hot for killing five men in less than six seconds.

"I spared your life, that doesn't mean we're friends," the Soldier said, brows knitting in a confused manner when Clint just continued to grin at him.

"Sure it does," Clint replied. "Maybe not Christmas card friends, but we're definitely more than acquaintances."

"I don't have friends." The Soldier insisted.

"Would you like one?" Clint asked carefully, fully serious now, no hint of a smile on his face, just open curiosity.

"I don't..." the Soldier looked confused again - it was kind of adorable though Clint would never admit that out loud - "No one asks me what I want."

"Well then I think you really should take me up on my offer," Clint said. "Everyone should have a friend, even people like us."

"People like us..." the Soldier echoed, thoughtful look taking over his features.

"Yup! I wasn't always an Avenger or even a straight up good guy you know."

"You were a mercenary at one time, I am aware of who you are and your history."

"My reputation precedes me!" Clint grinned, delighted. "I've always wanted to say that."

"Nothing in the reports on you said you talked this much or were this weird," the Soldier responded.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Clint said, though he questioned how thorough any report was that didn't note his ability to snark and sass. The Soldier hadn't said he didn't want to be friends yet, nor was he making a break for it. Could bringing him in from the cold really be this easy? "So what do you say man, wanna be friends?" Clint carefully stood from the chair he'd been held captive on, moving slowly so as not to startle the Soldier. He held out his hand.

"Sure?" the Soldier responded, still looking confused but eventually lowering his rifle then cradling it in his left arm so he could reach out with his right hand to shake Clint's.

"Do you want to maybe make a few more friends?" Clint asked as they walked over to the table where his phone, wallet, and a deck of cards had been placed after the tracksuits had removed them from his pockets. They hadn't found the lock picks in his boot heel however - amateurs. He slid his wallet back into his pocket and picked up his phone then glanced over at the soldier who still hadn't said yes or no to whether or not he wanted to make a few more friends. The soldier's expression was still confused, but held a hint of something else - yearning perhaps? Eh, maybe Clint was projecting. Still... "You know how to play Gin Rummy?"

And that's how Natasha found them half an hour later - playing Gin Rummy and surrounded by dead bodies.

"Can I keep him?" Clint asked her with his very best puppy dog eyes.


	3. Fanfiction - Marvel (Clint & Wanda, Winterhawk implied)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings - canonical character death mentioned

For the fictober prompt - “I can’t come back.”

Clint stood in the shadows watching as Avengers new and old gathered around the table in what had once been the common room of the Tower. Might become that again he mused, what with the Compound being bombed out the way it was, the Tower was as good of a headquarters as any for them in this brave new world they found themselves in post snap-back.

If only Natasha were here to see it, he thought with a bitter sigh. It should be her there, not him.

"You're not joining?" Wanda asked as she came up behind him, hand placed delicately on his shoulder. He loved and hated her in that moment. Craved and dreaded the touch. The compassion she offered.

"I can't come back," he said simply, stepping to the side so her hand slid away. She stepped forwards to join him, expression curious.

"I thought you already had?"

"They thought they needed me," he said with a shrug. "I doubt any of them wanted me though." Natasha, maybe...and look where that had gotten her.

"It's best this way," he said quietly as he glanced up and saw Bucky grinning at something Steve had said. "For everyone."

"You sure about that?"

I bring hope to man, I keep none for myself, he thought though he didn't share it out loud. Natasha would've been torn between scolding him for misquoting and teasing him for being so extra. 

Truth be told, he'd never expected his thing with Bucky to last anyway. He knew when he was out of his league and Bucky? Bucky was so out of Clint's league it was ridiculous. He would've left him eventually had the Snap not happened. Clint might as well make things a little cleaner and just do the leaving himself and now.

"There can always be new beginnings, even for people like us," Wanda said softly, reaching out to take Clint's hand in hers. Clint glanced over at her, took in the lovely lines of her face. He'd missed her over the last five years. Her quiet support.

Support that he didn't deserve, just as he didn't deserve this new beginning that the world had. Didn't deserve Bucky. Maybe at one time he could have argued his way into thinking he could ride on everyone else's coat tales like always, soak up a little of the good life, but not after what he had done. Not after what he had become. Not after what had happened on Vormir.

"Not for me, not this time," Clint finally said, raising Wanda's hand to his lips for a kiss. A final goodbye. He let her go and took once last look into the common room, one last look at Bucky's beautiful smile, then strode off to the elevator.


	4. Fanfiction - Marvel (Winterhawk - Bucky/Clint)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of homophobic language and behavior

For the Fictober prompts: “Enough! I heard enough.”

"And then Barton just started wailing on Rollins here," Rumlow said with his most sincere expression, a surprisingly effective one in all honesty. You wouldn't expect it of him with how he had the look of a greaser and an asshole but somehow he pulled off sincere.

And wasn't that just Clint's luck?

"That's not wh-" he began only for Principal Fury to interrupt him.

“Enough! I heard enough.” Fury said and Clint's mouth snapped shut with a click and he sank deeper into the chair as Rumlow glanced over at him. He didn't look victorious because that would alert Fury to the fact that he was a lying sack of shit but he was damn close and Clint wished for the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

He'd really made a mess of things this time. It had been a normal futzing day and he'd been in the best mood...better than best really because he'd not only scored the seat next to Bucky at the table under the tree but he'd made Bucky smile and laugh at the stupid shit he'd said and then it was like he was possessed because for some stupid reason he'd leaned in and pressed a kiss to Bucky's lips.

That's when it all unraveled.

Bucky had looked at him funny when he pulled away, not happy but at least not pissed off yet and Clint had all he could do not to monkey his way up the tree to get away from the situation. Steve had been quiet and looked...well Clint hadn't gotten a good look at Steve in all honesty because by that point Rollins and Rumlow had shown up and started calling Clint a fag and he'd seen red, surging to his feet but not taking a shot at them. He didn't want to upset his foster dad, Phil, but he wasn't going to take that shit sitting down. More words were thrown around and then Rollins and Rumlow were shoving at Clint and, well, at that point his temper had taken over and he had taken a swing at them.

Steve joined the fray but Bucky...well Clint wasn't looking it Bucky's direction though he was pretty sure the older boy was trying to pull Steve off of Rumlow at one point and wasn't that just the worst?

And then Mr Sitwell had shown up and Clint's day had gotten even worse than the rock bottom it was already, because he played favorites with Rumlow and Rollins and listened only to them once the fight stopped and Steve had been sent to the nurse for the bloody nose he'd managed to get, Bucky in tow.

Now he was here and Sitwell and Rumlow had given their statements and Clint...well Clint knew when he was beaten. Man, Barney was right - why was he even bothering trying to do the whole stupid school thing? People like them didn't belong in school. People like Clint didn't get nice things like new clothes and school supplies and friends like Bucky Barnes.

Phil would probably give him back to social services for this, he thought with a sniff, willing himself not to cry. It didn't really matter if he was suspended or expelled, he'd not want to keep Clint either way. He'd be fine though. He was a Barton. Bartons didn't need anyone, certainly not beautiful boys with dimpled chins and devastating smiles...and there went his traitorous thoughts back to Bucky.

Well, at least he wouldn't have to worry about the fallout from the stupid kiss if Phil gave him back over this. He'd never see Bucky again. The thought made his stomach sink almost as far as it had when Bucky hadn't reacted to being kissed. 

"Do you have anything to say for yourself Mr. Barton?" Fury asked and Clint wondered if he'd had to say it more than once because he hadn't been paying attention and Fury sounded frustrated.

"Thought you'd heard enough already, sir," he said, unable to keep the defiance from his voice.

"We're going to need to talk about that attitude of yours, son." Fury said before there was a noise in the outer office and the door opened behind Clint.

"Barton didn't take the first swing!" Bucky said, breathless from his spot in the doorway, like he'd run there from the nurses office. "Rollins and Rumlow started calling him names and shoved him around until he couldn't help but fight back."

And it felt like the Earth had opened up beneath Clint because what? Why was Bucky defending him? And then a hand landed heavily on his shoulder and Clint maybe kinda blacked out for a second because the hand belonged to Bucky and he was looking down at Clint a little sorry and a little hopeful and and...

"Is that so, Mr. Barton."

"They uh...they called me a fag - among other things," Clint said as soon as he found his voice.

"Now wait just a se-" It was Rumlow's turn to stop mid sentence as Fury held up a finger to him.

"I don't condone violence, Mr. Barton, but I also don't condone slurs and bigotry Mr Rumlow, Mr Rollins."

"So what you're just taking Barnes's word for it?"

"Mr Barnes is a straight A student, he's in the Science Club, and on several sports teams, as well as the Student Council - his character speaks for itself." Fury said. "Mr Barton you will still have to serve detention for throwing a punch but Mr Rollins and Mr Rumlow I'm going to need to call your parents and talk about suspensions for the use of hate language."

"What?" Clint said softly at the same time Rumlow nearly screamed it.

"Barnes, Barton you can go." And Clint was paralyzed for a moment only standing after Fury's look at him turned pointed. He was stuck still a moment later as well when Bucky's hand slid from his shoulder and curled shyly together with Clint's hand.

"Is this okay?" Bucky mumbled as they exited Fury's office and the antechamber outside of it where his secretary sat looking put upon, probably from Bucky rushing past her earlier.

"Yeah, uh, but, why?" And really Clint? Was he really going to question the first good thing to happen to him in the last hour?

"Well...I'm kinda sweet on you and I thought, with that kiss, that you were kinda sweet on me too..." Bucky said, pink tinting his cheeks as they entered the hallway. "Sorry, by the way, for not reacting...you surprised me is all."

"You're sweet on me?" Clint asked, stopping dead in his tracks and gaping at Bucky who turned and gave him a dazzling smile. He wasn't sure what was more shocking - the olde timey language or the fact that Bucky liked him.

Who was he kidding, it was definitely the fact that Bucky liked him.

It was also pretty damn shocking that Bucky stepped up close and pressed a kiss to Clint's lips right there in the middle of the hallway.

"C'mon, I gotta check in with Steve and let him know you're okay and not in that much trouble." Bucky said with a grin as he tugged on Clint's hand. And Clint was powerless to do anything but follow.


	5. Fanfiction - Highlander (Original Characters)

For the fictober prompt: Listen, I can’t explain it, you’ll have to trust me.

James bolted awake with a sharply in drawn breath that was followed by a coughing fit. Eventually he noticed that there was a sheet over him completely covering his - hang on, naked, he was naked - body. And were the beds even worse or was he on a metal table?

“He-” he coughed again and moved the sheet off his upper body. “Hello?” he managed and no one answered. He sat up gingerly and looked around. This wasn’t a normal hospital room. It was too chilly for that. Slowly the pieces fell together - cold room, naked on a table, covered by a sheet, and it felt a little like there was a tag on his foot - he was in the morgue.

He laughed at the incredulity of it all then coughed again though not as severely as before. His lungs, which had felt weird - tight and something else, something he couldn’t put a word on - were finally starting to feel more normal.

It took a moment to recall what had happened last before he’d ended up here, and then it hit him - the car accident. Truth be told he felt pretty good for having been in a car accident but he had to have been knocked unconscious for a while. He raised his hand to his head to feel for a head wound but couldn’t find one. Well no matter, he still had been knocked out - he’d just figured perhaps if there had been a lot of blood he’d been written off as not worth the effort and set aside to pass on his own. Either way they’d cut a corner with him considering he was very much alive.

It would make a good story someday he was certain as he swung his legs over the side of the table and got to his feet. He felt a little unsteady but nothing too bad and he marveled again and how, well, good he felt. Even what remained of his left arm wasn’t bothering him at that moment and it almost always ached. He took a few steps and finding no other ill affects, began looking for his clothes or at least something to wear so he didn’t walk out naked. After minutes of searching he came up short, so he fashioned himself something of a toga with the sheet that had been covering his body and made his way out.

He wanted to get back to his room in the next building and put on some actual clothing before he went and found someone official to talk to, but he only made it about ten feet outside the building into the failing light of evening before encountering someone else. A sudden rush and buzzing hit his head and he staggered, bringing his hand up and wondering at the delay in his symptoms, when he collided with a solid body. Strong arms reached out to steady him so he only staggered a little before he could plant his feet more firmly. As quickly as it had hit the dizzy sensation passed and his head felt clear again.

“Whoa buddy,” the man he collided with said, his arms falling to his side, though he held tension in them like he was expecting James to have another spell. “You okay?”

“Yeah I,” James shook his head and took a better look at the man before him. Pretty blue eyes in a face of pleasant, if a little plain, features. There was something in his ear and wires disappeared under his shirt from it. James noted with interest that he was staring at his lips as he waited to hear him reply. “I’m fine,” he finished lamely. The expression on the other man’s face was skeptical to say the least.

“You sure about that?” blue-eyes said, eyeing his toga. “It’s a little late for a Halloween party - or is the Roman look back in all the sudden?”

“You’ve sure got lip,” James replied, willing the flush that wanted to rise at the teasing.

“Not the first to say that, probably won’t be the last,” blue-eyes grinned in amused pride at himself. “You sure you’re fine?” he asked, sobering up just as quick. “Haven’t been in an accident or something have you?”

“Well actually…” and why was James even entertaining this total stranger rather than booking it for his room to change? “Yeah, I was,’ he found himself saying. "Car accident.”

“Bad one huh?”

“I can’t really remember to be honest. I blacked out when we hit the tree and then I woke up…’ he glanced down at himself, glad he’d remembered to remove the toe tag but knowing he had no real reason to be naked under the sheet he was draped in. "Well I woke up in the morgue if you must know.”

“Do you feel okay?” There was a certain level of interest in blue-eyes’s face and that probably should’ve made James back up and walk away, but it didn’t.

“Yeah, like, weirdly good if I’m honest.”

“Like you weren’t just in an accident at all?”

James nodded and a smile spread on blue-eyes’s face and James had to reassess his earlier thought that his features were plain.

“Son of a gun,” blue-eyes looked pleased. “I uh - I think you should come with me rather than going to the general in charge.”

“Why would I want to do that?” James asked though for some reason he wasn’t as on guard as he probably should have been.

“Because I think you just died and came back to life.”

“Bullshit.” But the more James thought about it the more it seemed like it could be real. How had he managed to survive that crash? And sure the army made mistakes, but would they really have marked him as dead and stripped and cleaned him up before putting him in the morgue if he hadn’t actually been dead?

“Listen, I can’t explain it, you’ll have to trust me.” Blue-eyes said. “You see, the same thing happened to me thirty years ago.”

James opened his mouth to say bullshit again but something held his tongue. Maybe it was the sincerity in the other man’s eyes. He shut his mouth but kept a skeptical eyebrow raised.

“My name is Clay and I promise I’m not crazy,” blue-eyes held out his hand.

“James,” he eventually said in reply, taking Clay’s hand in his.

“Alright James, let’s head to my apartment and get you some normal clothes. Maybe together we can figure things out huh?” Clay said and James nodded, something settling within him that he hadn’t even noticed had been out of place before.


	6. Fanfiction - Highlander (Original Characters)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of drowning/torture

For the fictober prompt: “Yes, I’m aware. Your point?”

Clay was awash with a mixture of emotions. It was nice in a way, especially considering he hadn’t been sure if he was going to make it out of things alive to even feel anything other than pain and fear and dread in the short times he would be alive in between drownings as he was stuck underwater.

“I’m fine, you know,” he said quietly, glad that Joshua had grabbed him a pair of his hearing aids.

“Yes, I’m aware. Your point?” James said from his position half on top of Clay. The hospital bed, though large, wasn’t exactly made for two full grown men but that wasn’t stopping James from squeezing on and clinging to Clay like an octopus.

Thus was the source of Clay’s myriad of emotions. Because up until he’d been pulled from the water and revived, then kissed, by a panicked James he hadn’t had a clue his feelings for the other man had been reciprocated. Feelings he’d been keeping to himself for the better part of sixty fucking years.

“I don’t even know why they have me here in the hospital,” he said instead of replying directly to what James said. He was Immortal. Sure it sucked to be stuck dying and coming back to life time after time after time while being held underwater but it wasn’t like it had any lasting repercussions for him.

Well. Physically anyway.

James raised himself up onto his left arm to be able to look Clay in the eyes and he found himself unable to breathe because of the emotions in James’s…until they and his expression turned scolding. “Let yourself be taken care of,” James said before softening things by leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Yes sir,” he whispered against James’s lips before they pushed back down against his in a firmer kiss.

That, he decided, was a feeling he would never get tired of. Nor was the wash of affection at the gagging noise he heard from the doorway as Aidan and Ashanti poked their heads in.

“Ugh, they’re being gross again,” Ashanti complained, her smile belying her words.

“I know, right? Get a room you two!”

“We have a room, you just need to get out of it!” Clay said back to the two women as James settled back against him with a contented chuckle. He might not be able to handle all these emotions bursting out of him but that was okay. Right now he was overwhelmingly feeling like the luckiest man in Boulder, possibly on the planet itself.


End file.
